


Loving You Is A Losing Game

by HecoHansen31



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Death, Discussion of Abortion, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Kidnapping, Not Canon Compliant, Pregnancy, light Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecoHansen31/pseuds/HecoHansen31
Summary: Everything in your life is falling apart: your husband might face the extreme punishment for is treason and be executed, and whenever you try to convince him to beg for forgiveness, you are pushed away further, unable to recognize the man you loved.But soon, more worrying things might come and the only way to save yourself and the one you love is to endure and be cunning.
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	1. Alcestis

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N): Hello there, lovelies!
> 
> I was actually supposed to write this after ‘To Kill a King’ as a sequel, but in the end I just loved so so much this idea that I couldn’t stop myself from writing in order to wait.
> 
> Still I know that this fic might seem ‘similar’ to some others I wrote, so I am very anxious for any feedback you mgiht want to send my way, because as always not only it helps my writing but it makes me write faster!

_“Admetos, I am dying.  
This is my last request of you, so listen well.  
Of my own free will I gave my life  
to let you live. I am dying for you, Admetos,  
but I did not have to die.  
I could have chosen otherwise”_

_“Alcestis” by Euripides_

Life with Ivar had never been easy.

But you had loved your husband with the intensity of a million of suns.

And he had loved you back with the same intensity.

And for a certain time, you had had it.

But then his own raising ambition had gotten in the way of it all.

You had always been part of your husband’s planning but this time you had been kept outside of the conjure that had tried unsuccessfully to take over Lagertha’s throne.

They had been betrayed from the inside and your husband had been taken to the prison cells, waiting for the queen to choose what to do with his fate.

But you already know what it would have been.

Death.

And as much as the wound of betraying hurt your heart you couldn’t deny him your love and your prayers as you asked mercy for him to Lagertha.

‘We’ll go in exile, we’ll disappear from your hands, we’ll…’ your voice had broken down with gentle sobs as the queen quickly ushered everyone outside of the Great Hall leaving simply you and her, as she gestured for you to come closer.

‘Sat, my sweet’ she had mumbled gently, as she had moved a few strands of hair away from your face as you gripped tightly on her hand, unsteady on your own feet and your body shaken by your fear of failure ‘… I do think that I could grant that, but your husband would never ever forget a promise’.

‘I’ll convince him!’ you shouted pleadingly, although you were aware that you had had to lie to Ivar to justify your disappearance by his side, told him you’d be seeing your family to assure their support to his cause.

Your family had been the reason why you weren’t sharing his cell, alongside the fact that you had been kept in the shadows about this entire plot.

‘It was to ensure your safety, my sweet’ had commented Ivar as you had asked him why he hadn’t involved you in it ‘… because I need my small bird to continue on chirping in my ear’.

But you had been rudely woken up during the night by burly men asking you if you knew what your husband had done.

And you still weren’t able to properly sleep, taking the offer of staying at your brother’s house, with his wife fretting around meanwhile she waited for her first child.

A painful sight for you, whose stomach was still flat after a year of marriage.

‘You had sworn that you wouldn’t have done anything till I gave you an heir!’ you had protested against Ivar, remembering your words, when he had allowed you a small moment of calmness from the plotting and avenging.

You hadn’t been inclined on motherhood, more interested in the threads behind battles, wanting to enjoy your youth without having to waddle behind children, like your mother had done.

But Ivar had wanted one heir desperately, since it would have cemented his position as the rightful heir of Kattegat, and you had eventually allowed him.

Allowed him to lay his seed inside you.

But after a year of trying, nothing came from it.

And you felt Ivar’s heavy disappointment on you.

Lagertha’s voice brought you back to reality as she raised lightly your chin for you to meet her light eyes, and as much as you had hated her, always sympathetic to your husband’s cause, in that moment you just saw another woman who had been betrayed by her husband.

‘I know that you’ll try, sweet one, you were always a perfect diplomat, but with men like Ivar, you can’t win the game’.

There was an unspoken knowledge due to her own experience with Ragnar in her words and you couldn’t help but sigh loudly, as you gripped your stomach, the reason behind everything, your failure.

‘… I just… I don’t want to see my husband dead’ you moaned in pain at the sole thought as Lagertha gently caressed your cheeks, before she dropped her hands on the table separating you both ‘… he may be cruel and he has the worst temper, but he loves me and…’.

‘Ragnar was the best man I ever knew’ she commented softly, breaking your own train of thought ‘… but he left me, betrayed me for another woman and that made me think about myself, and my children… he may have loved me still, but… that wasn’t enough’.

‘I just…’ your voice broke down, because although Ivar hadn’t betrayed you with any woman, what Lagertha spoke was true.

Your father, an earl, had been disappointed to discover your liaison with the youngest son of Ragnar, the one he, himself, called a ‘deformed monster’.

‘He’ll only break your heart, (Y/N),’ he had said as he downed another cup of mead and you had dismissed his words as the ones of a drunkard who knew nothing of love and feeling ‘… and I won’t take you back when that’ll happen’.

Your brother had also been cold about this relationship, but he hadn’t rejected your offer to give you to Ivar the day of your wedding.

‘If you are so so sure about doing this, I’ll deliver you myself to him, before you do the stupid thing of eloping’.

And although he didn’t say it, you knew that he despised your husband since you had set foot back in his house.

‘… I know that this is hard to understand, but…’ Lagertha now moved her eyes away from you, stealing a small look at the window ‘… sometimes, love is simply not enough’.

And as easy as that, you started crying fully releasing all the sadness you had been holding in yourself for days, well aware that you were breaking down right in front of your husband’s enemy.

He would have thought you weak to do so.

But Lagetha simply collected your tears as she delicately dabbed a piece of cloth on your face, before gripping your hands tight.

‘… I’ll accept the exile proposition, but I don’t think that your husband will ever accept it’ she proclaimed queenly, although her eyes spoke of sympathy, not pity, of somebody who had fallen in the same trap ‘… in that case, he’ll be executed for treason’.

‘I don’t think that I can live without him’ you mumbled, a few sobs interrupting the phrase as you stuttered it out.

‘… you’ll learn to’ she spoke gently and sternly ‘I did, and I am happy… I have Astrid, a new love will come also for you’.

The last words were a whisper from afar to you, as you thanked her almost mechanically for listening to you, as you exited the great hall with a dreadful feeling.

That Lagertha had spoken the truth.

* * *

You found out soon, as Ivar threw his cup of mead onto the prison bars, some of it staining your dress, a simple fantasy of fabric that used to be Ivar’s favorite, hence why you had worn it to give him the news of the exile.

There had been a time when you were both younger when Ivar had been enchanted by every word you spoke, even going as far as to do the silliest of things because you dared him to.

You kind of missed that power you had on him.

‘We are equals’ he had spoken on your first night of marriage as he had linked your hands ‘… you are the only person I can see standing by my side’.

And now he just threw a cup of mead to you.

“Are you crazy?!” he spoke, as he dragged himself closer to the prison bars, since they had stolen his braces, thinking that they could easily be weapons.

And you were well aware of how much that choice pained him.

“I am just trying to do my best to keep my husband alive!” you retorted, although you backed off slightly, attracting the look of a prison guard.

Pity in his eyes.

“Oh… and let me ask you, my beloved wife, how did you think that sucking mercy from Lagertha’s tits would have saved me?” he spoke arrogantly as he gripped tight the bars, showing you his teeth as he growled those words “… and worst of all… you come here asking for exile!”.

“You said you would have run away with me…” you whispered softly, trying not to alert the prison guard again, as you crouched down at his level, pushing on hand over his as he gave you an annoyed look.

“Only cowards run” he spoke, as he turned his head away from you, but you gripped tighter your hand over his.

“… you could run and we could plan a better way to take Kattegat” you spoke gently, as your eyes shone with hope “… or we could go to exile and then do the same, we’d be both alive, Ivar, that’s all that matters”.

“No no!” he hit with the other hand the bars, making you choke back a breath as your eyes shone with fear “… nothing else matters till I get my crown back and my mother is avenged”.

Although you were well aware that it was what Ivar wanted above anything else, even you, it never failed to pain you deeply.

“… I don’t matter to you, is this what you mean?” your voice trembled and you also turned your head to the side to withhold the tears in your eyes, as you pushed away your hand over his.

It took Ivar a long huff of annoyance before he replied to you.

“Of course, you matter to me, (Y/N)” he mumbled almost scorned by your question “… but there are a lot of things that also do…”.

“I love you, Ivar, you are all that fucking matters to me!” you shouted, as you raised to your feet, annoyed and profoundly hurt by his words “… all I want you is to be fucking safe, is that so hard to understand?”.

And your husband, almost challenged by your shouts, replied.

“And all I wanted was an heir, but your stomach is still flat, isn’t it?” he didn’t even need to raise his voice, because he always knew how to hurt you and you stood there breathing through your nose as you tried to calm yourself.

“… maybe I am not the problem”.

You knew that you had hurt him as you turned and run away.

You had learnt from the best, after all.

* * *

That night you were restless, enough to startle awake your sister-in-law who came to check on you, worried you might have caught a fever.

But you were cold, almost frozen and eventually she had given you a small drug to allow you to sleep, but it hadn’t last much.

Your nightmares were too strong and for once it wasn’t the worry for your husband, making.

You had dreamt of him as hanged or without his head, but it was you who was the center of the nightmare of tonight.

You were on a table and your legs were open, your dress bunched up as scorching white hot pain went through you, a few women with no faces but white masks were all around you, doing nothing but observing you, as you pleaded with them to help you.

Help you push out your child.

And when the child was out, another pain shot through you as the child was raised by a man, taken away from your screeching arms, holding out for the child, but your entire body was chained and all the white masks were now laughing at you.

Laughing so loudly that they overcame your screams and as you woke up, you immediately retched by the side of the bed, cold sweat all around you, as it stained the clean sheets and both your brother and his wife came immediately to you, helping you calm down as you continued on shouting for your child.

Eventually breakfast had come, and both your sister-in-law and your brother suggested you paid a visit to the healer, so that you could ask her about the dream and maybe plead with her to give you something to calm you down and make you sleep better.

You had refused their company for the small walk, sure and steady now that night didn’t cloud your eyes, always feeling a bit better when you walked, since it helped you clearing your mind.

But you had overheard them as your brother hugged tightly Tala, his soft-spoken wife and mumble:

‘I should have never allowed this, after father died… I shouldn’t have let her marry him’ and then he had grumbled out ‘… I should kill hm for what he is doing to her’.

‘You had no idea of what would be happening’ had suggested Tala and you could almost see the way she would gently bring back behind his ears a few strands of hair, before proceeding to kiss his cheeks ‘… she loved him’.

Tala and Felix had been a match made in heaven and burned of a soft love that would have blessed them with the typical fairytale ending you had always dreaded.

But now… oh… how much you longed for it.

“… he is a bastard who can’t love anything else than himself” had replied bitterly your brother.

And as much as you hated to admit that your brother was right, you knew that he wasn’t completely unaware of who Ivar truly was.

Maybe he knew him better than his lovesick wife.

You had left them to their own domestic intimacy, as you had moved to reach the healer, hopeful that she would give you something to ease your mind, although your mind was so damnably fast and worried that you had already an headache halfway through reaching the healer’s hut.

The healer welcomed you softly, immediately hugging you as she asked you to join her by her table, to consume a bit of food together, since she could already see ‘that you looked pale and tired’.

“… what happened, little bird?”.

Ylva had been a friend of your mother and she had taken care of you after she had passed away from an illness, caring after you and your younger sister, as she had taught you about your first period, how to calm Ivar’s pain with herbs and how to cure any superficial wound.

“My head is just… messy” you muttered well-aware that she probably already knew of the mess Ivar had gotten himself into and how badly you were reacting, although you hadn’t left the town since the start of it.

But rumors were faster than anything else.

She had been one of the few that had supported your relationship with Ivar, mumbling a simple ‘you are good for each other’ as you had brought Ivar to meet her once, making the boy slightly blush under her steely glance.

“… oh sweetie, having trouble sleeping?” she suggested, always knowing what was on your mind “… and eating from what I can see…”.

Since you had started playing with your food, barely able to eat it.

Lately you had felt like your stomach was completely closed, and this situation had been going on for days.

But you had justified it saying that you couldn’t think about eating when your husband was closed off in a cage and risked being executed.

“I am just worried, Ylva” you mumbled, smiling sadly, as she took the plate from you before she replenished a glass with some water, which was the only thing that you could down “… my husband is in chains and last night I had a rather confusing nightmare…”.

“What was it about, sweetheart?” although Ylva tried to keep her tone light you could feel she was worried.

“… I was giving birth… in chains and there were all these people staring at me, doing nothing but staring and then… they took the baby from me…” you mumbled confusedly, but Ylva seemed to follow your train of thought “… I don’t… I just don’t understand why I worry for a child when I should be worried for my husband”.

Ylva’s eyes became soft and a look of pity was shot at you, as she gripped tight your hand, before another went to your flat stomach, to which you sent a small look, even more confused.

“Sometimes our dreams tell us truths we aren’t ready to discover” she explained softly, as she cupped your flatness, almost groping it in an uncomfortable way “… when have you last bleed, (Y/N)?”.

And then it all linked in your mind.

“I am not with child, Ylva” you protested soundly, immediately backing off, as she shot you a stern look.

“… when have you last bleed (Y/N)?” she repeated, as she gripped tight your wrist to keep you still from raising up “… I could feel the change in you but I didn’t think it was because you were with child”.

“Because I am not!” you were starting to become hysterical.

“Just let me run a quick check” she begged, and you couldn’t help but calm down “… if you are not pregnant you have nothing to hide”.

“… alright” you had huffed out as you added “… I haven’t bled in a month but I should in a few days, it isn’t rare for it to be… late”.

It had brought you and Ivar quite a few surprises.

The first time it had happened, you had come to your husband and gently hugged him, smiling on his lips as he brought you in a kiss, surprised by your good humor, but definitely not against it.

‘… what has happened?’ by now you had been married for three months and all your thoughts were sweetened by your conquests in England.

‘I might be pregnant my love’ you had announced softly ‘… I haven’t bled’.

And a few days after you had.

And no matter how much your husband attempted to hide it, you could see the disappointment on his face.

Hence you knew better than to think the lateness in your bleeding to be an indicator of a sure pregnancy.

“Have you felt sore, both in your breasts and… intimate places?” proceeded to ask Ylva “… you have already shown nausea and uneasiness to eat”.

“Ahem… my breasts are swollen…” you hadn’t given it too much thought, again blaming it on your monthly bleeding “… and I am tired, I thought it to be a consequence of many sleepless night, but it isn’t simply… me being sleepy, I just feel so easily without energy”.

“Sweetie, would you lay down for me?” she had asked, before guiding you to her bed, gently raising your skirt to reveal your naked stomach, lowering lightly your underwear as she softly delivered light touches to your stomach, prodding in an almost uncomfortable way “… you are swollen, sweetie”.

“… it might not be because I am with child” you mumbled softly, scrunching your eyebrows “… my bleeding might also cause that”.

Ylva scrunched her nose as some would do with an annoying child and she moved to dip her finger inside you, making you squeal uncomfortable and she soon retrieved her hand, with a smile on her face.

“You are with child, little one” she replied softly “… believe me, you might not believe it, but I can feel it and the more you deny it the more you suffer”.

“I can’t be with child” your scream sounded so damnably cringey that you also cringed at your tone “… it’s just horrible timing! I have been trying to get pregnant for so long and it… they were merrier times, but then… it happens when my own husband is to be executed”.

“A child might ask for mercy…” consoled you Ylva, kissing your forehead, probably happier than you about this new “… both from Lagertha and Ivar”.

“But what if this…” you gestured to your still-flat stomach, although Ylva had been right when she had said that you were swollen “… if this doesn’t change anything?”.

Because Ivar’s own ambition might come even before an heir.

And Lagertha wouldn’t have had any second thoughts simply because you had a traitor’s child in your body.

“… (Y/N)” the healer softly collected your tears, that you realized solely now you were shedding “… there is an herb, it’ll make your stomach… it’ll make it flat again”.

You had heard of it, many thralls used it in case they ended up being pregnant of their masters.

It did the job well, from what you had heard.

But would have Ivar ever forgiven you for such a gesture.

“… I can’t raise this child on my own”.

Because truth was that you didn’t even know if you wanted a child.

Life had always been so freeing without them and although you’d cherish them playing around the market and jumping on their fathers’ laps, you just couldn’t think having one of your own.

You had grown up as the second child, the first daughter of an earl and your mother’s presence had been overbearing to the point that she had eventually fatigued too much herself and it had made it easy for the illness to creep up on her body.

Although you had never held much love for your parents, you feared such an end.

The end of a woman who had never lived fully, just devoted to children that would outlive her and a husband that would join her after mead did its rightful job.

Had Ivar been with you, you would have considered it.

One of the many reasons why you loved Ivar so much was how there always seemed to be a solution for anything according him and that was why you felt definitely lost without him.

“… you wouldn’t be on your own, sweet child” she promised you Ylva, taking your hands “… there would be me, your brother and his wife to help you, you wouldn’t be alone”.

She ripped off the veil that was protecting you and you couldn’t help but shrink in yourself as you mumbled the uneasy truth.

“I don’t even know if I want a child”.

Ylva’s face suddenly become serious and you were painfully aware that infertility had stopped her from having children and you couldn’t help but think how badly she would judge you for having the chance that she didn’t… and ignoring it so abruptly.

“… my sweet that is…”.

“Am I a monster for not wanting it?” you couldn’t help but cry, maybe it was due to the baby, since it was known that babies made women frail, but you couldn’t help but feel this anguish.

This betraying and hurtful feeling that you were being a horrible person.

“Oh no no, you aren’t absolutely little bird” Ylva’s hands gripped her face gently, bringing your shiny and teary eyes to meet hers, a softness in them that hurt you, because you didn’t deserve it “… you are nothing but a child, stuck in a difficult position, I wouldn’t expect you to be blamed for this choice”.

And she kissed your forehead hugging you tightly as you let out the crying fit you hadn’t been having for a long time, that you had denied in a desperate attempt to appear strong in public.

But with Ylva you were, indeed, nothing but a child.

“… shhh shhh, my sweet, you’ll sleep this over, talk with Ivar and then decide” she suggested, as she loosened the hug, kissing your brow as she helped you compose yourself “… do you want me accompany you in Kattegat?”.

You shook your head, as much as Ylva’s presence was comforting, it was clouding your mouth with emotions you had to shoot down and separate from.

“… if you do decide that…” the words seemed to burn on Ylva’s mouth “… if you don’t want to swell, come here again”.

“I’ll think about Ylva” you promised, kissing her hands as a ‘goodbye’ “… thank you, not solely for your check-up”.

“… may the gods be with you, little bird”.

* * *

You were jumpy on the road back home, your mind shifting on thoughts about you as a mother.

Would you have looked like your tired mother?

Or would you have looked like a different woman, completely?

The latter thought scared you even more because it opened a variety of possibilities that made you think about the worst that could have happened.

Would you have been a horrible mother?

You weren’t even sure of wanting your own child, but what was worse than that was the fact that you doubted that Ivar would have been a good father either.

A man who forgot his family for his ambition, wouldn’t have raised a happy child.

You were so deep in your thoughts that when a soft touch reached your shoulder, you almost jumped immediately turning to the woman, who revealed herself to be Astrid, Largetha’s lover and trusted soldier.

You had seen the blue-eyed woman a few times in the great hall, but she had never approached you, so you were slightly wary of actually talking with her well aware that she hadn’t snooped in for a quick salute.

“… princess (Y/N)” she raised her hands to show you she was unarmed “… I am sorry to have scared you… I just saw you and thought I would introduce myself”.

And maybe snooped in to know what Ivar’s faithful wife was doing so far away from her husband.

“Thank you, Astrid and sorry for bothering you” you mumbled softly, trying to assume your most innocent smile as you softly bower in respect to her.

“What are you doing so far away from your rightful home, princess?”.

Well at least she wasn’t one for silly pretenses.

“I visited the healer Ylva” you explained softly “… I have had trouble sleeping and asked for some herbs that might help me”.

“… your hands are empty” you almost couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her evident questioning, but simply replied with a sickly-sweet smile.

“The herbs I have been suggested isn’t farmed here, Ylva told me I would have found it at the market” you explained quietly, trying not to raise any suspect in the beautiful woman.

Although you had nothing to hide, her gaze made you feel dirty.

And Astrid seemed to realize it backing off both verbally and physically.

“… can I escort you in the city?” ‘to avoid you buying a plan for your husband?’.

“Thank you, lady Astrid” you accepted softly, offering her your right arm, which she accepted gladly “… how are you?”.

“Fine, although I do have to admit that it has been a busy period”.

‘Because of my husband’ you almost wanted to add but simply nodded softly.

“… summer is almost finished, and everybody is rushing in with the last touches for the harvest” you tried to make polite small talk.

“… and soon they’ll start raiding again” mumbled Astrid almost “… we have been training girls who are just desperately waiting to fight…”.

“Ahhh I remember that feeling of the furious energy before a battle”

Although you weren’t a shieldmaiden having grown with two older brothers had taught you what you needed in the fighting field, and you had fought a few times, whenever your family was involved and alongside that before Ivar started being stubborn and stopped you from joining battles.

‘You are my wife, now, (Y/N)!” he had shouted at you, as you had protested against him forbidding you to take a stand on the battlefield “… everybody will know that and they’ll aim for you to hit me”.

And you had accepted to step behind, pulling the threads of every operation behind his actions.

It suited you more, since your mind was twice as sharp as Ivar’s.

“… oh yeah, I tend to forget that you used to fight, princess” and it would be ever more difficult for you to do it again, if you kept the baby “… have you ever thought to come back to it?”.

A huff pained your lungs as you coughed lightly to hide your uneasiness.

“… I’d love to, but I do think that the gods have chosen my spot to be behind the battlefield” you mumbled softly, the perfect depiction of the loyal wife.

“I was told that you are the reason behind many great victories back in England” she mumbled, admiration shining in her eyes “… your husband, Ivar, never ever failed to shout about it during feasts”.

You laughed, because that was the Ivar you had fallen in love with.

The energetic and idiotic boy that would make you blush because he thought you were the best person ever.

His beloved (Y/N).

Sometimes you asked yourself if marriage had been what had ruined it for both of you and him.

You had married each other just after your father had died, you were nothing more than sixteen and Ivar was barely a bit older than you, and your marriage hadn’t born from actual thought but from your own need to show others wrong.

You, your father, Ivar, everybody else.

And although effectively nothing else had changed, you still couldn’t help but feel like with the marriage and the official recognition of your union had put you and Ivar through useless obstacles.

Such as him stopping you from joining the battle or wanting a child.

You had just made everything more complex.

“… you could teach the girls a few things…” mumbled Astrid surprising you “… you are as young as them so your voice will be both fresh and experienced”.

You couldn’t help but listen to your heart pounding at such a proposal.

It was definitely something that stroked your ego and your brain, as you nodded softly, not thinking about Ivar in a cell, or your heavy ring.

“I’ll think about it”.

“That’d mean the world for the girls” she promised you but didn’t push it because immediately you both heard a strange noise, something that low key made you nervous and stood on your guard.

You shared a quick look with her, and both moved to watch each other’s shoulders.

“… do you have a weapon on you?” she asked reaching out for her pocket, but before she could reach for her knife she was knocked back from a man, who you had just the time to look in the eyes, before you were also hit on the back of your head.

And all you could was tuck and arm over your belly to protect the child you didn’t know whether you wanted or not.

* * *

His heart ached at the thought of you.

Of your last, unpleasant, parting.

The way he had thrown accusations in your face, when you already were already hurt for everything that had happened.

Because of him.

And not because of you.

But you had wounded his ego.

You had suggested him to just flee like a coward, leaving his mother unavenged and his rightful territories.

But yet, would it have been worth it?

He wasn’t scared of his death.

He had almost longed for it on certain days, when pain was all he knew.

But with you in his life he couldn’t help but think about what would have happened to you as a widow.

You’d move on certainly after his death, you were smart enough to live on your own but, not only the thought of another man having you made him go crazy, but he knew the pain you’d go through.

And if there was one thing that Ivar hated more than anything was to see you in pain.

But his blind pride offered no other solution.

And being stuck in a prison cell didn’t help.

What would have made the difference was you being pregnant.

An heir would have stabilized his position on the throne.

Lagertha’s claim was weak and bloody, and an heir such as Bjorn was problematic to say the least since it could have had many repercussions, because of his wandering ways.

But Ivar with his strong mind and his victories, and a healthy baby to continue the succession would have been far more accepted.

But that blessed child had never appeared, in over a year of wedding, something that was starting to get on his own damnable nerves, although he didn’t blame you, fully, you were healthy and young.

He was the problem.

Maybe his prick might work with you, but his seed certainly didn’t, not taking its seat in you and blossoming in a baby, something that was a motive of shame for him.

What would others think of it?

But maybe it was some kind of ‘blessing’: the gods didn’t want any more cripples.

Whatever it was, it had made him snap at you, and with the look of disappointment you had sent his way, he doubted that you’d ever come back to discuss again with him, even more since you had spoken the silent truth.

That maybe he was the fault.

That maybe he was the origin of all your problems.

While he was saddening himself with all the bad thoughts he could find, suddenly he heard a noise and immediately turned to see in what the hell the prison guard had stumbled, but as he turned to look around, he saw the guard…

… a bloody hand at his ripped throat and behind him a big silhouette, which quickly stole the keys to the prison, and Ivar rushed to grab the small pointy wood he had shaped during these days of boredom.

But the man inched closer to him calmly.

“Ivar…? Ivar, son of Ragnar?” he called out and Ivar didn’t know whether to make his presence known or not, but in the end, he inched closer to the prison bars, hiding carefully the pointed wood stick.

“… who is asking?” mumbled Ivar as he heard the familiar sound of a key slipping through a hole as the prison bars were opened for him.

“I work for Gustaf The King” replied the burly man, as he pushed the bars away, actually freeing Ivar and before he could continue, the pointy stick was stabbed in his guts and he immediately rushed to steal his sword to him, cutting his throat open.

The man tried to close the gap, but he fell beside Ivar, who he had the time to steal the keys before they were dipped in blood.

“… well I don’t know whoever that asshole is, but this is my fucking city”.

He had proceeded to free all his fighters and had challenged any men of this fucktard Gustaf, although they might have thought he would fight against Lagertha, he wouldn’t support any stupid conqueror coming for city.

Even more when his wife was in it.

(Y/N) knew how to fight, he knew it.

But in cases like this, his worrying nature got the best of him and he desperately fought with anybody who might stand as an obstacle, eventually coming to the great hall where everyone was stored inside, coming even shoulder to shoulder with Lagertha and her shieldmaidens, as they contrasted with her the threat.

Eventually the men moved in retreat, or at least what had remained of the people Lagertha and Ivar had spared, more in an attempt to send a message than for actual mercy.

“… what are you doing out of your cage?” asked Lagertha, not lowering her weapons and Ivar keeping them up as straight as he could cradling on the ground as he looked through the shieldmaidens line, hoping to find your face, but no one was quite like you.

He hoped you had had the good sense of hiding in the great hall.

“They freed me, thinking that I could have helped them, but I didn’t” he replied, as he gave his men order to relax, Lagertha doing the same, as she turned, proving herself to be vulnerable.

… all he would need was a to raise his sword…

But not before he saw you inside and safe.

“… I won’t say ‘thank you’ for what you did” mumbled Lagertha, opening the big door of the great hall.

“Wasn’t expecting you to” he replied harshly, his eyes immediately ranking over the figures in the great hall.

Hadn’t you been pissed with him, you would have probably moved to hug him, coming at him and tripping him, as you did when you were younger, smirking softly at him.

‘You took your time, cripple’ you would say, and then kiss him on the lips so damnably softly that he would have felt the need to deepen the kiss in an almost desperate way, to prove that you were alive and breathing beneath him.

But you were pissed so he didn’t expect you to come to him.

But he didn’t see you.

And then he spotted Tala, your sister-in-law, she held her pregnant bump with a pure look of fear in her face, which wasn’t eased as Ivar came closer to her, completely bloodied, so he tried his best to remember to be nice with her.

Tala, unlike your brother, had always been nice to him, a bit obtuse but nothing so bad.

“… Tala…” he shook her gently, trying to avoid touching her on her hips, knowing that soon-to-be-mothers could be quite fierce, when their children were touched “… where is my wife? Where is (Y/N)?”.

“(Y/N)?” for a minute Ivar thought she was too confused to speak and his anger flooded his insides, but then she blurted out “… she went to see the healer, had strange dreams… and retched”.

Which wasn’t a good thing, but it was better than to know that those brutes had done something horrible to you.

You were probably at Ylva’s, chatting and gossiping, but then something caught his eyes as he thanked Tala, and her husband, your brother, moved to take care of her as she slumped down in his arms, exhausted.

He gave no look at Ivar and he was thankful for it.

Your brother had always been fiercely protective of you.

What caught his eyes was the way Lagertha moved around worried.

“… have you seen Astrid?” he heard her utter and suddenly a doubt went through him.

What if Astrid wasn’t the only one missing.

What if…

“Who is this Gustaf The King, who tried to take Kattegat?” although the attack had been damnably chaotic and he could definitely see that who they had fought against were unproper warriors, he could also see the strategy behind it.

This had all been a distraction, but for what?

“He is…” Lagertha seemed almost out of breath due to the worry in her voice “… is a small lord, but he has been calling himself king because he has been rallying a few rebels from different areas, promising them glory”.

“And why didn’t you notify us of this?” because he hadn’t heard of this, and it had passed more than three months since he had last come back from England “... this seems like a threat”.

“He is nothing more than a small lord and has an unorganized army, it is nothing to worry” now her tone was a challenge, as if she wanted to quickly shut up Ivar’s mouth, but he was a fretting husband with a missing wife “… why aren’t you back in prison?”.

“Because I just saved your ass, although you won’t admit it”.

As much as Lagertha’s army was strong, the help of his had been substantial to it all.

Lagertha didn’t admit but let out a huge huff of air, before a small shieldmaiden barged through the huge doors, immediately moving to Lagertha who took in her worried.

“Gyda, what happened?” she asked softly, brushing away a few of her hair drenched in sweat “… is everything…?”.

“I wanted to speak with Astrid after out training” her voice was breathless but loud enough for also Ivar to hear her “… she told me she would be back in the city but when I came on the road to be back in Kattegat, I…”.

And instead of completing the phrase she exited Astrid’s knife, a beautiful polished thing, almost as deadly as the woman who held it and what was attached to it, scared even more Ivar.

The queen pendant he had gifted you the day before you had come back to Kattegat, when you had sealed your deal with evil: an heir for a truce.

He had secured the small necklace around your neck, the heavy pendant dipping between your breast, as you kept your eyes closed waiting for the surprise Ivar had promised you, and as he told you to open them, you had gripped the pendant, in your hands.

‘… you do know that us girls like things that shine don’t you’ you had mumbled faking disappointment, as Ivar just huffed annoyed, setting himself beside you on your shared bed ‘… I am joking, Ivar, it’s beautiful, but…’.

‘You are the queen, and I don’t mean it simply as a promise of what I’ll make you become, once Lagertha is off the throne…’ you had then taken his hands softly in yours.

‘… I don’t need a promise of a title or a crown to be happy with you Ivar’ you had mumbled softly, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, as you moved forward for a kiss, but he pushed himself back, pleading you to let him continue.

‘… but also because the queen is the strongest piece on the board, the one who can do everything and the true source of the king power, which is what you are also to me, you aren’t a ‘pawn’ or an ‘horse’, you are the sole queen, and I hope this’ll remind you of it’.

And as you had been moved by his discourse, you had hugged him tight, mumbled in his ear about ‘how sappy he could be with you’ as he protested, trying to reject the hug.

‘… I’ll never take it off, Ivar’.

And the fact that you didn’t have it in you, was a terrible sign.

You couldn’t have just disappeared.

Where could you have gone?

* * *

As you woke up, your head pained you more than anything else, and you almost thought that you had just woken up from another nightmare.

One in which you hadn’t been kidnapped alongside Astrid.

But sadly, it wasn’t a nightmare.

You weren’t on earth, since you could feel movements under your ass, ad as you raised your head you found out that you couldn’t see the sky, but you were trapped under a wooden roof.

Everything certainly making it seem like you were trapped in a boat.

Your hands were bound alongside your feet and as you turned you found Astrid beside you, immediately taken aback by the fact that you were awake, as she rushed closer, dragging her body around the pavement.

“… are you awake, (Y/N)?” she called out to you, whispering lightly.

“Yes, I am simply…” your head fought to stay lucid as you found your words being slurred and a sudden nausea hitting you up, even stronger than your headache “… my head hurts as if it had been used to be kicked around”.

“They hit us pretty strongly” she explained with a sad smile “… I do think that I’ll have a big bruise where he hit me”.

“Where are we?” you asked, rushing in as you tried to break free from the rope, but it was tight enough to hurt your wrist and when you had been tied, you hadn’t been able to use any trick to make your hands seem bigger, swollen.

You looked around to find something sharp but not only the room was extremely dark, but you couldn’t move much, again the nausea making you dizzy.

“… a boat, from what I can hear, but I don’t know much more…” she sent you a meaningful look “…I am sorry, I tried to make some noise, but they seem d…”.

As she was finishing talking, you both heard footsteps and protests being shout as you both moved away from each other, trying to assume innocent poses, as much as your nausea could allow you to.

You were biting your tongue till blood crept out, enough to distract you from the need to retch on your feet.

And then men appeared behind the door on your left, letting a bit of light in, as they dragged alongside themselves candles, and if it was already night… you were rather far away from Kattegat.

And there it hit you, as the adrenaline left you and you realized that you were lost.

The men were three and they approached with strong steps shutting any other sound and coming closer to you both, as a man, a beauty in gold with a strong face and a proud jaw, gently crouched down to you.

As if he almost wanted to comfort a scared animal, holding out a hand for your face, as he checked you, before asking.

“I fucking told Eric to only grab the queen’s bitch, but he also grabbed you” he spoke slowly, so that each word destroyed you completely “… so tell me, little girl, who the fuck are you?”.

“A no one” you replied, breathing out your answer and Astrid was smart enough not to contradict you.

As the wife of a prince you were valuable for any exchange, and you had learned long ago that if you were captured, you should have never ever revealed your true identity for the wellbeing of your husband.

“… a pretty no one” muttered a fat soldier beside him, probably the Eric who the blond man was talking about, as the he tightened the grip on your face.

“… we won’t keep whores here” muttered the other unknown man, who held the candle, bringing it closer to your face and suddenly some kind of look of recognition showed on his face.

And you got worried.

“… but she isn’t a simple whore, she is Ivar The Boneless’ whore” he muttered as on the blond man’s face appeared a bright smile, turning to a relieved Eric and you couldn’t help but feel again the need to retch, but this time it wasn’t because of a bodily reaction “… when I fought back in England I always saw her perched on that fucking lucky son of a bitch of a cripple… and you know what is worse?”.

“… no, tell me” the look on the man’s face brightened, almost victoriously as you tried to hide your fear.

“… he fucking loved her”.

Only there and then the blond man abandoned the grip on your chin, but you were well aware that you were thoroughly fucked.

“Eric” he called out to the fat soldier, the one who had kidnapped you and Astrid “… apparently you didn’t simply bring me the lover of a queen, but also the beloved wife of a prince”.

And then a scream of pure utter victory was released.

And in that moment, you did retch on your own boots.


	2. Electra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being kidnapped wasn't the hard part.  
> Surviving in a kingdom where nobody is your ally might be more problematic.  
> Even more when a new life is growing in your stomach.

_“You can have your rich table_   
_and life flowing over the cup._   
_I need one food:_   
_I must not violate Elektra.”_

_"Electra" by Sofocles_

On the days on the boats you’d try to keep your mind active, talking with Astrid, but the night… you were lost to feverish dreams.

Of your labor, accompanied by the death of your husband and child, to the point that you had come to dread night.

Even thought, unless one of your jailers took pity of you and would leave a candle burning out slowly, it’d be forever night in the dark of the heart of the boat you were on.

You had tried to goad your jailers into knowing where you’d be going, but they had been as silent as rocks.

They looked at you with pity and a vicious lust, that made you glad that Gustaf had stopped any man from ‘roughing you up’.

‘… she is the wife of a prince!’ he had commented, sending you a joking look, because drenched in dirty clothes and vomit, you didn’t look very much like royalty ‘… and we’ll treat her as such’.

Had Ivar ever gotten his hands on their wives or children, he wouldn’t have treated them like that, for sure.

You wondered whether he knew about your kidnapping.

Lagertha and your family certainly wouldn’t have left him in the shadow of ignorance.

But did he still care about you?

Maybe he’d have cared about the child in your belly…

A sudden impulse to retch brought you back from your treacherous thoughts, as Astrid called out your name, to check on you.

Although the jailers had simply thought your ‘illness’ to be seasickness, Astrid had caught on pretty quickly what it truly was, as once you were left alone, she had whispered:

‘Are you with child?’ she had asked, looking in your eyes, as you raised your head to lightly nod, and she had thrown her head to the sky of wood ‘… is it his?’.

‘I might be the wife of a traitor, but I certainly am not a cheater’ you had replied pointedly, as Astrid asked for forgiveness, raising her hands as you had lightly pushed your tied arms to hug your knees ‘… I loved him’.

‘… he’ll come for you’ she had spoken as she matched your pose, making you raise your head ‘… he has killed for much less, believe me, he’ll find you’.

You didn’t understand if she was doing this to calm you down or simply because she truly believed your husband was a beast.

“I don’t think he cares anymore” you muttered, as you cradled yourself tighter in your arms.

“I don’t think that he’d risk it for a simple lovers’ spat” she commented, and you couldn’t help but bit your lips, harshly, because although Astrid’s words were gentle and laced with sureness, your thoughts weren’t.

“… it wasn’t a simple lovers’ spat” it had been more like two words clashing through each other.

All the differences that you had had, spit against the other.

“… it just… it used to be quite… easier” you explained, finally uttering your thoughts “… when we were younger, before we were married”.

The ring on your finger was heavy to remind you that.

“You married quite young” commented Astrid, as you nodded “… it isn’t easy, even more when you are blessed with so much power and a stubborn husband”.

You laughed darkly at her comment, as she tried to turn to you with her piercing blue eyes staring at you.

“I just… sometimes I wished we had just kept it on like it was” you explained, confessing something you had never told anyone “… it just felt like we did it more to prove something to others than for ourselves”.

Your entire life had been this way.

Your romance with Ivar had started this way and had continued like that.

Even the child in your womb was a show of that.

To prove to those who didn’t believe it that Ivar was a man, exactly like them.

“Will you keep the baby”.

You had been waiting for that question for quite some time, because it had also tormented your thoughts, but to be uttered out like that it took the breath from your lungs as you choked on your words.

Eventually answering:

“… I don’t know” you confessed.

“Do you want a child?” she questioned you again, as those piercing eyes reminded you of Ivar.

“This might not be the best period to have a child” you tried to push away the question, but Astrid’s eyes focused on you tightly.

“Have you ever wanted children?” she asked “… if we weren’t stuck in a damned ship brought to our demise, would you keep it? The one in your belly”.

Nobody had ever truly asked you that.

You realized that not even Ivar had ever asked you that.

He had simply told you that to have peace, you’d have to give him a child.

He had ordered you to have a child.

And now you had one, but the only positive sensation you had about it had been Ylva’s gentleness in talking with you about it.

“… I…” you choked on your words, unsure of what to say.

Because it hadn’t ever been a question for you.

It had been a fact.

And now that it had happened…

… you weren’t sure of the answer.

“… I don’t know” you spoke “… Ivar always wanted children, it’ll strengthen his hold on the throne and it’ll…”.

“What about you?” Astrid focused the attention on you.

And you couldn’t help but want to vomit, and not because you were feeling nauseous.

Nobody had ever asked your opinion.

“… my mother died because of running around her children. Exhaustion claiming her… ” something had been unlocked in you as you confessed that and Astrid’s gaze softened “… I always… she isn’t something I want to be… I like children, but… I am not sure of wanting them, now”.

Even more in this period.

You didn’t trust Gustaf, in the slightest.

That man reminded you too much of calmer version of your husband.

And your husband did nothing without a second purpose.

“… have you thought about…?” she didn’t have to say it, but you remembered the talk with Ylva, the name of the herb she had told you to take in case you didn’t want the child.

Now it’d have been extremely difficult to obtain it.

“Yes” you spoke softly “… my… healer Ylva has told me to take an herb in case I didn’t want it anymore, but now…”.

“If you don’t want this baby, you don’t have to carry it” she spoke as if it was the most natural thing ever, and you froze in your spot “… I am not saying it solely because it’ll indeed change your life for the worse or for the better, but because if you don’t want it truly… if you aren’t ready for it… it’ll grow unloved”.

She seemed almost to speak from experience and ducked her head away from you, as you looked at her surprised.

“… I can’t… I don’t know how to…”.

“I’ll get you the herb, no matter what” she promised you “… just let me know if you want it or not”.

Something broke inside of you at that thought.

The question of the baby had kept you up till late, but you had never had a deep and stable solution, something that could be more than a fantasy.

But now Astrid had given it to you, her eyes speaking of true sincerity.

She would have helped you if you didn’t want the baby.

She wasn’t lying.

“… I need to think about it”.

“Do it fast” she commented simply, almost as if you hadn’t had just a heart-to-heart conversation “… the herb won’t work after a certain amount of time”.

“I’ll let you know” you promised softly “… I just… need some time to think about this”.

And then you were surprised as you heard the door open, and immediately Astrid pushed herself away from you, meanwhile you tried to look at your fiercest, even with dried vomit on your clothes.

Gustaf walked in, a smirk on his face as he looked at you as if he was holding court.

Everything in him seemed damnably royal and it annoyed you to an extent that you would have gladly hit him if you had had your hands free.

“Good morning, ladies” he called out to you both, only welcomed by a grimace on your faces “… I have news for you, don’t you want to hear them?”.

“Fuck you” commented bitterly Astrid, but Gustaf seemed too happy with himself, to properly care about her comment.

“We have arrived at my home” he promised you softly “… and you ladies will be my welcome guests”.

* * *

“I don’t fucking care about anything!” screamed Ivar as Lagertha sent him an annoyed look, as one would with an annoying child who wouldn’t just lower his voice “… it is my wife we are talking about! She was fucking kidnapped because of your ineptitude in being queen”.

“Ivar, you either calm down or you’ll be back in your cell” threatened him the blond woman, meanwhile a few guards came closer.

“I don’t honestly know what he is doing here” commented your brother loudly, on the opposite side of Ivar, closer to Lagertha than him, and with a look of pure hate in his eyes.

Felix hadn’t been his best supporter, but he had never been an obstacle to your relationship as your father and older brother.

But Ivar knew that since he had tried to overtake Lagertha and pushed shame onto his sister, he hadn’t been his biggest supporter.

But he hadn’t expected him to straight up try to cut him off like that.

“… shouldn’t he be in prison?”.

“We called a truce” commented Lagertha.

“No, we didn’t” Ivar replied, shooting her a quick look “… I just value my wife enough to know when I have to shut up and lay down my weapons”.

“Then shut up” replied Lagertha “… I am not allowing my soldiers to get slaughtered to retrieve your wife, because they run into Gustaf’s lands blindly”.

“My wife is in their hands” he spoke harshly, before he shot a quick look to Felix “… you own bloody sister!”.

“I fucking know, you idiot!” replied Felix, getting up, as he towered over Ivar and for a moment, the cripple was truly scared, because Felix’ eyes spoke of pure anger.

One that he knew all too well.

“Calm down!” Tala, his sister-in-law screamed as she also got up, her pregnant belly immediately catching eyes.

She was near the birth date and she shouldn’t have been there, but she had insisted on staying in the council.

And Ivar could understand why.

“Your silly male arguments won’t help (Y/N)” she spoke loudly, to make sure that all attention wasn’t on her “… I do agree that we can’t lose time, because she might be in danger, but I also know that going blindly in there won’t help in the slightest.”

Both Ivar and Felix were taken aback, because Tala was usually shy and gentle, she had been a constant comforting figure, but right now, she wasn’t ready to step down.

And she had told the truth.

They were also losing time arguing amongst themselves.

“… I love (Y/N), as a sister” she spoke, and now her softness broke through her front “… I can’t even fathom the thought that I’ll give birth without her by my side. But I’ll endure it, if I know that she’ll soon be safe in my arms and that we’ll be the same”.

Lagertha gently moved to the trembling pregnant woman, whispering a few comforting words, as Felix did the same, caressing her round belly, meanwhile Tala leaned against him, the man gently adjusting her so that she could sit on him, with her front against his, as she enveloped him in a tight hug.

Ivar couldn’t help but miss you even more dearly as this happened.

He just wished that he could do the same as Felix with you.

He wanted you there with him, because he wanted to apologize for the last words he had said to you.

They burned in his memory.

And he just wished he could bring you as close as Felix was doing with Tala, whispering soft and comforting words.

But he had never been able to do such a thing.

He had solely been able to break your heart.

“… I’ll wait, but…” he commented, breaking apart the beautiful moment “… I am worried for her”.

“We are all worried for her” assured him Lagertha, as she shot a quick look to Felix, who continued in hiding in his wife’s hair “… and Astrid is with her, so believe me I have no intention to let this go”.

“I’ll gut Gustaf” he hissed roughly, after that, because he couldn’t shove his anger onto Lagertha or Felix if he wanted to have some alleys in his mission.

But Gustaf?

That fucktard wouldn’t have lasted a day once he got ahold of him.

“We all agree on that” answered him Lagertha, with a dark smile.

He’d have you soon in his arms.

And he’d have his revenge.

But for now, he’d just listen in to the what the council knew about Gustaf.

He seemed a ghost, who had risen to power during the insecurity of the throne of Kattegat, meanwhile they were in England.

He had started with small raids around fellow Viking villages, and had proclaimed himself king, raising a small but sneaky army.

Lagertha admitted to having undervalued him, thinking he wouldn’t be anything too big and that Kattegat would have held itself against him.

But it hadn’t.

And now you were paying for all her mistakes.

* * *

A few women had been allowed inside the boat to wash your body from days of dirt and to preserve your modesty from the men’s eyes, as they gently dabbed your body with water soaked tissues that they pressed to your body, then moving you to a bathtub brough inside just for you and Astrid, allowing you a bit of intimate time.

The one it took you to give Astrid your answer.

During the time that you had had before the boat had docked, you had realized one thing.

This child hadn’t been blessed by a good timing.

And as much as you knew that Ivar would have cursed you for your decision, you couldn’t deny that if the gods had blessed your pregnancy, they wouldn’t have allowed Gustaf to take you.

They would have allowed your pregnancy to appear much before.

But in truth they were all pretty lies about the fact that you were scared to end up like your mother.

And not solely a tired woman, relegated to child bearing but one that wouldn’t have loved her children truly.

For all this time you had tried your best to fake that the growing belly on your stomach wasn’t anything more than a dream, a feverish dream.

You had tried not to get too attached to the baby.

You hadn’t considered it truly, except when your belly stiffened for another vomiting session.

You just couldn’t bring this pregnancy to its rightful end.

There were so many reasons why it was cursed.

And in the end as Astrid had said: it was your decision.

‘I can’t keep the baby’ you had whispered in her long hair, free from the braids to be properly washed, as she kept her face impassible ‘… I’ll wait to know your plan to get rid of it’.

Although the words seemed to easy, they hurt your tongue.

Almost as if somebody had decided to rasp coarse paper against it.

And now your tongue bleed, crying for the injustice of the words.

‘Sweet baby’ that was the first time you addressed it in your mind ‘… I can’t have you, right now. It wouldn’t be fair to birth you in chains, meanwhile your father has his own plan to destroy himself’.

There would have been others.

You tried to console yourself with that thought.

But your tricky mind knew that although you might have been blessed with others, they would have never ever been like this one.

And yet, it was the best choice through the worst-dealt cards Destiny had given you.

Astrid didn’t give you any judgement and lightly nodded, the only semblance of an agreement appearing between you two, as she moved to wash your hair.

And you were glad she couldn’t see your tears for the child that you had never wanted and would never have.

You tried to focus on the steps ahead, instead.

Now that you were on land, you’d have both advantages and disadvantages.

It certainly would have been easier to go escape on land, but at the same time you wouldn’t have made it quite far, hadn’t you found a way to secure yourself boat back to Kattegat.

And most importantly you didn’t know where you truly were.

You hadn’t been able to keep up the time in the stomach of the boat, although you were sure that not even a week had passed since you had been kidnapped, so you couldn’t truly understand how far you were from home.

It was almost torture to think about everything that was wrong and difficult in that moment.

Because you saw no way to escape this.

But you had to keep your mind lucid to see anything that might be helpful.

So, for now you played the caught princess, as you let the guards bind your hands together, thinking about the fact that it would have been so easy to knee them in the groin, grab the rope and tighten it around their necks, as your older brothers had taught you.

You just smiled as Gustaf moved to examine you.

“Gotta make sure that you look like the princesses I promised my people” he smirked, as he looked at the dress you were wearing, something that was quite luxurious you had to say, but it just made you feel exposed “… now smile”.

“You might have bond my hands, but you don’t control my mind” replied tightly Astrid, as he moved to examine her, meanwhile the guards’ eyes ranked over her body as you heard tight whispers of ‘whore’ and ‘fucking cunt’.

You kept your mouth shut.

And not simply because you were feeling like retching again.

Gustaf ignored completely Astrid’s comment and simply turned to you, as you ducked your head, playing the submissive lady act.

You were led away and before you knew it you were in the middle of nowhere, as you tried to understand your surroundings, but it was nothing like Kattegat, although the weather was quite much more chilly and you were almost glad when Gunnar gentlemanly enveloped you in his mantle.

But at the same time, it reminded you of your first ‘date’ with Ivar, making you feel guilty for the intimate gesture.

Ivar back at that time had been too nervous for any physical contact, but as he had seen you shivering, he had cursed loudly commenting on your stupidity to wear ‘such a light dress on such a cold night’, but he had wrapped you up in his own furs, finally finding the courage to envelop you in a loose hug.

But then as you moved further on the hidden road, an hidden city revealed underneath you, spurred on by the heavy movements of the soldiers marching with you, enveloping in a tight grip your bodies, as Astrid also looked as surprised as you.

And entire population, half the one of Kattegat, but still impressive, was living in rocks-like house, something that would have almost seemed like a fairytale, hadn’t it been reality happening in front of you.

“… I know that it isn’t as majestic as your own city, but this is my land, ladies, the one that will host you till we get your weight in gold” he presented it to you, as more people came out of their small huts.

“So, we are hosts?” this time it was your voice unable to stop itself from emerging “… why then are my hands bound?”.

“For your safety, my lady” commented Gustaf with a triumphing smile “… wouldn’t want you to run off and be brought back with the hard manners”.

“My husband will have your head if you touch as much as a hair on my head”.

Because even if you and Ivar were on strained terms, he wouldn’t have allowed you to be dishonored.

If not for your honor, certainly for his.

“Then you better behave, lady (Y/N)” commented Gustaf with hungry eyes moving to your body and you tightened the mantle around your body, as you felt like a useless bratty princess.

Gustaf clearly wasn’t scared of Ivar.

He should have been.

But the fact that he wasn’t, made him bold… and dangerous.

“… she is a princess” backed you up, Astrid as her hands went to your “… I wouldn’t forget that”.

“Princes, princesses and subjects… that’s how the world works, isn’t it?” asked Gustaf, something almost fanatical appearing in his eyes “… but that isn’t how it works in my land! I brought here the rejects, the warriors that were left behind…”.

And you immediately noticed that a few of the men around you had missing limbs or didn’t look in the slightest like the typical image of a warrior.

“… the women that nobody wanted” and this time it wasn’t simply the one that didn’t look ‘normally’ beautiful, you knew he meant that one that nobody wanted to marry and the ones that had been too abused by men to want another between their legs “… and the children that nobody wanted”.

His voice seemed to shift onto a softer tone as he said this, almost as if he had personal experience in this.

You took the information and stored it in your mind.

“… so welcome to the land of nobody, my ladies” he proclaimed with a quick look at you both “… this will be your new home from now on”.

* * *

Ivar had been allowed to go back home on his own, although he knew that Lagertha’s spies trailed after him.

More because they were worried that he might try to do something stupid to get you, than because they were sure he’d try to overthrow Lagertha.

And hadn’t Ivar had that ‘small’ fight with you, he would have certainly thought about that.

But now, he just couldn’t.

You had been right in berating him, after you had searched for a solution that his goddamn pride made him refuse to accept.

And now you were paying the consequences.

He knew that you had to be treated well.

That’s what he would have done with such an emotionally important hostage.

Touching one single hair on the head of such an important hostage would have meant the captor’s death, if they hadn’t the army to back it up.

Their gain would have been more if you were alive.

But you could have been bruised.

Roughed up and… made to service men.

And he would have made them paid dearly for it.

He was trying to bring himself to move away from the hallway of Kattegat, thinking that even if he wouldn’t have slept, he would have probably smelt a bit of your perfume in your mattress, when he saw somebody walking in.

Ylva, your healer and friend.

He was surprised to find her, but she smiled at him sweetly, as she moved further up to him and the guards in the hall let her come closer, although he saw a spy dispatching himself from the others, probably to inform Lagertha of this meeting.

“Ahhh look at the lucky man!” she commented softly, as she came closer to him and he tried his best to smirk softly at the older woman.

She had been the main reason why he had been able to marry you, since she had constantly supported you in your decision to marry the crippled prince, alongside helping him to get through the pain, with brews of herbs and bottle of oils.

“Ylva, what are you doing here? Are you not supposed to be in your hut throwing curses and brewing potions?” he asked trying to appear gingerly happy.

Ylva lived isolated from everyone, so he was sure she hadn’t heard the news of your kidnapping and he reasoned with himself that it was best not to say anything, at least for a bit since.

Ylva had been like a mother to you and he knew that she was also attached to you, like one.

He didn’t want to make her worry.

“… I do that only on special days, you know me, Ivar!” she commented before shooting him a softer look “… and what are you doing out of the cage? I thought that you were locked inside”.

“I escaped” he commented dryly.

“Then (Y/N) convinced you, didn’t she?” she smirked sweetly at him and hearing your name was like a punch in the gut but he tried his best to hide it “… I knew that the child would do the trick…”.

“What child?” asked Ivar confused, although a terrible sensation started brewing in his stomach as Ylva shot him an annoyed look, almost as if she thought that he was playing dumb.

“The one in her stomach, Ivar” she commented immediately and suddenly Ivar couldn’t help but choke on his own breath “… your wife is pregnant, Ivar! But I confide she has told you…”.

You were with child…

… in some foreign island…

“… she hasn’t told me, actually” he obliged himself to speak as Ylva came to support him “… she hasn’t been able to… she… an attack overcame Kattegat, and she was taken…”.

He had berated you for not having given him a child, in your last meeting.

And now you were pregnant.

And away from him.

“Ivar…” breathed Ylva anchoring him back to earth, and away from the horrible thought he had been having about you, broken and your unborn child separated in the womb from you “… I had no idea…”.

“I’ll bring her home” he promised to Ylva, because he knew that no matter what he’d bring you back to Kattegat.

And then he didn’t know if it was the shock or stress, he passed out in Ylva’s arms.

* * *

You had been led into one of the largest rock-houses, discovering that inside they could be quiet homely, and rich, although the entire design tended to look more like a jumble of various riches that probably came from different raids.

Or so you supposed.

You saw them throwing in a few of the ones they had successfully stolen from Kattegat as you were led to your own private rooms.

More like cells, although they were ample.

You had been locked inside, till you heard a pipping voice chatting brightly with the guard, and soon the door opened under a small key that the girl hid quickly her cleavage, but you noticed the movement, trying to search a way to make her accidentally spit it out.

She was quite a beauty, although she had one missing eye, covered by an elegant bandage on it, bright pink of something that seemed quite exotic.

But her fierce attitude definitely made up for the absence of the eye.

She asked you what she could do to make your staying better, suggesting some herbs if you were still feeling nauseous from the boat.

“I’d like to know your name, firstly” you asked, knowing that to set up an emotional bond with anyone would have been useful, even more with the woman that had the literal key to your freedom.

She seemed taken aback by your request and you were satisfied by that, although she hid her surprise quite well.

“… and my stomach is slowly settling itself on his own, but what I’d like is some information, obviously if you are allowed to talk”.

She nodded, shyly, as she ducked her head away from you, almost as if she was used to hide the missing eye on her face.

Hadn’t she sided with your captors, you would have gladly befriended her.

“Of course, my lady”.

“This place isn’t on any map, is it?” because obviously the gods couldn’t make this more difficult even if they tried.

The girl shook her head.

“… it is an absolute desert spot and if you aren’t brought her, you’ll never know of its existance” she explained with her eye full of admiration, almost as if she thought this was the best that could ever come to her.

But the truth was that much hadn’t changed.

She was still a slave.

Just because they had changed her chains with the silky ones, it didn’t mean she was out of this.

Gustaf wasn’t a freer of people.

He was a man who saw the anger of rejections and used it against others.

Ivar and he would have gotten along well.

“That’s beautiful” still you played the surprised and brattish lady part “… it is absolutely extraordinary that this was all set up with no record from any other kingdom”.

You saw irritation fall on her face, as if she didn’t want any mention of other kingdoms in her own.

Well, sadly for her, you and Astrid would ruin her marvelous plans.

“… we have no other way than to shield ourselves form the kingdoms that have rejected us” her voice spoke of a pain that made your eyes soften “… sadly we haven’t many choices, unlike you”.

You wanted to tell her that your own freedom wasn’t as wondrous as hers.

But you held your tongue and simply smiled sadly.

“Do you know who my husband is?” you asked her softly “I am the wife to prince Ivar The Boneless, and I can assure you that he made many great things, even with…”.

“… he is a prince, my lady” she commented, again that tight look that this time hit straight in the bullseye “… I was nothing but a miller’s daughter, when my master’s wife caught me spying on her at her husband’s order, catching her with a slave. She made him take my eyes and then told me I should have thanked her for having done ‘a clean job’ “.

Pure anger burned in her eye, as you thought about how similar it had been to Ivar’s.

Hadn’t Gustaf been his competitor, they might have understood each other.

But men with rage that burned so brightly would have never been friends.

They would have burned everything around them.

“I am sorry” you mumbled, as you sent her a tight look “… I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories”.

“I just look forward to the future, my lady” she commented softly, as she sent you one last look “… this place isn’t so bad, once you get used to it”.

“I hope not to sound annoying, but I really hope not to get used to it” you whispered, hoping she wouldn’t hear you, and if she had, she gave no signal of it “… and I hope this won’t sound terrible rude from me, but I’d like to relax a bit, sleep even”.

“Oh, of course, my lady” she replied, hiding quite well her offended expression from you, as she ducked away, locking you in.

And you passed the following three hour counting down the minutes to make sure that you could get ahold of the time, as you watched the color of the sky change, although the windows of your chamber had been chained in, to avoid you another easy escape.

After three hours, the girl finally came back, something much more submissive in her glance as she tried to make you talk, finally revealing you her name, Kari.

But you tried to keep everything close to your chest, as if this was some kind of interrogation.

Kari had you swiftly changed in a new dress, this was far more decorated than the one you had been dressed with, although you were grateful for the fur stitched on its shoulders because the coldness of the rocks, no matter the fireplace blazing, seeped also inside the rocks.

You thought it must be the humidity that stuck to your skin like a second skin.

Although the dress was far more covering than the other, you felt naked without your chess pendant, as you fidgeted with your fingers against its original position.

The thought of having lost it making your heart break.

Although your relationship with Ivar was quite strained, it still hurt you to have lost it.

Ivar had been so proud when he had given it to you.

It had meant the world for you.

Alongside what he had told you to accompany it.

It had made you feel for once as truly his match and not simply his wife.

As you were dressed, all jewelry you wore was taken off you and you could totally understand why, although you didn’t wear much.

Anything could be a weapon, in the right hands.

‘You’ll have them back, my lady’ had commented Kari, as she took your wedding ring matched with your golden earrings.

You doubted they would ever come back to you but you tried to simply nod, before Kari informed you that your hands would have been left unbound to let you eat in piece.

‘Please don’t try anything, you’ll simply hurt yourself’ she finished explaining, treating you almost as a child, and you played along, because you were sure that trying to escape right now would have been a death sentence.

But still the tone she used irritated you.

Almost as if you were to be treated like a precious doll.

And you weren’t.

You had never wanted to be one.

But you endured it, doing your best to keep your mouth shut.

You didn’t understand Gustaf’s way of playing with you.

This wasn’t the way you would have treated hostages.

Certainly, it was good that he didn’t want to hurt you, but at the same time…

… it made things just unclear to you.

But you were thankful to be brought out of your room, although it wasn’t as small as a cell, it made you uncomfortable to say the least, and although surrounded by guards you felt comfortable in the hall as you looked around with curiosity scanning each door and person.

You were brought down a flight of stair in a bigger room, lighted up by a lot of candles laying around, because of the tough interior of stone, making everything seem quite wary, almost a war room organized to be a parlor for guests.

As if you were guests and not hostages.

And you realized that it was what Gustav wanted to make you seem like.

Honored guests coming to bless him and his people, as you came to a ragtag table full of good smelling food, something that awakened your hunger and before you knew it your own child gave you their own blessing to eat, easing the nausea.

Astrid appeared on the other side and before you knew it, she came barging to you with more emotion than she had shown for the entire time you had known each other.

But soon you discovered that there was much more behind it.

Her hands pushed something in the back of your dress, over into your fur, sticking it to the pins in it, and she whispered in your head to act natural and you did, smiling at her in the most heartsick way.

Soon the guards put themselves between you, regaining order, as Gustaf walked in.

Both on the boat and outside of it, you hadn’t been able to get a good look on his face.

You had to say that indeed he was quite handsome.

He had long light blonde hair, which had been properly set up in a combed hairstyle, highlighting the harsh plane in his face, although he looked quite smaller than you had thought.

Had you to say something about it, you would have commented that he had been a premature baby.

He still wore extremely fine clothes, probably the finest in the entire room, hiding his figure and keeping the straightest of figures.

He might have been truly a beautiful creation.

Hadn’t his eyes shone with such a wickedness.

“Princess (Y/N)” now he addressed you properly, but you knew it was all for the people looking at you “… princess Astrid, how did you find your rooms?”.

You stopped Astrid’s remark on her lips, mumbling a soft ‘fine’.

“… I am glad to hear that” he replied, as he pushed one hand out to you, as if he expected you to take it, but you simply smirked back and moved to grab on Astrid’s one, who although hid it, seemed definitely surprised “… we shall sit at the table, by my side, as the honor guests they are”.

This time Astrid’s reply came before of your reply.

“Weren’t we prisoners?” she addressed him harshly and you moved to push her back, as something dangerous appeared in Gustaf’s eyes, but disappeared as soon as his eyes settled on you.

“You are my hosts, as long as you behave”.

A veiled threat.

And your head went accidentally to your stomach, already disappearing before you could fully understand what you had done.

“Now sit down and eat with us” ordered you Gustaf and you complied, getting sat, as you dragged Astrid with you, the guards to push the chairs out for you.

You tried to focus on the food, finally able to eat something without the need to retch it completely, finding yourself famished.

It was also easier because it meant that you could avoid conversations and just hear the other speak, although not much was said, soon Gustaf prompted you both to speak.

He started asking you questions, to which you answered with tight mumbles and slight moves of your head.

“You aren’t a woman of many words, princess (Y/N), are you?” teased you Gustaf and you simply moved to raise your head to send him a tight smile.

“I don’t think that pretty words are needed now” you commented back, as you pushed to go back to your food.

“… not even with your husband?” he replied with a devious smile, something that made your anger spike up, as it almost seemed another invasion of intimacy “… because I think that’s the only thing he can do to entertain a woman”.

You choked on your breath as Astrid shot you a warning look

Still, one thing was to insult you.

Another was to insult your husband.

Mostly on such intimate things, nobody truly had the knowledge of.

As Ivar would have defended your honor, you would have defended his.

Always

“I think that is a case in which pretty words aren’t needed” you commented sternly, as you turned to him cleaning your face in a tissue, before you raised from your chair, alerting a guard “… and so is my presence, I’d like to return to my room”.

“It wasn’t meant to offend you, princess” Gustaf’s eyes burned for the humiliation that you had put him through, but his words were pleading “… do stay and enjoy your meal”.

“I have had enough” although your stomach grumbled “… and I am tired. This is my first night on something that doesn’t move, I want to enjoy it fully”.

Kari immediately moved to follow you, meanwhile the guards waited for Gustaf’s orders, which were simply pushed out by his hand waving dismissively, although his eyes stayed on you till you left the room.

Astrid sent you one last look, her eyes sending you her ‘goodnight’.

And soon you were in your bedchamber, surprising Kari as you asked her to bring you some herbs and hot water to help you digest all the food that you had eaten.

‘… I might have exaggerated with it’ you tried your best to sound helpless and naïve.

Kari just nodded her head, leaving you effectively alone, as you grabbed the small pocket Astrid had pinned in your fur, effectively finding it was the herb you needed.

If it was like Ylva had told you, you’d have to put it in hot water and then drink it and it would have…

… it would have…

… changed you.

When Kari came back, your hands were shaking and you had hidden the herb in the ample sleeves of your dress to be able to hide it among the various herbs she brought alongside a cup of boiled water.

She tried suggesting you a few herbs as you moved to push the ones that you had hidden in the sleeves in its plate as she shifted her attention away from you, and then made your choice, proceeding to put it in the water.

Now all you had to was wait.

And then drink the awfully smelling beverage.

Kari seeing your choice brought everything away, trying to fret around you to avoid seeming as if she was wasting time and you waited for her to leave you alone, to move to check on the beverage, telling her to leave you alone so that you could sleep a bit.

‘I am truly looking forward to sleeping on something that doesn’t move’ you commented trying to brighten up the mood, although you had to hide the shivering of your hands.

And as you turned, the beverage was ready, of a dark color that made your face appear on its reflection, as you thought for one last time about whether this would be a good or not decision.

It was the best among some many bad decisions.

And right when you were moving to drink it, the door behind you opened.

And your hand almost accidentally dropped the mug.

You were halfway through telling Kari if she had forgotten you anything, but Gustaf, instead, stood on the threshold and you couldn’t help but assume an immediate defense stance and utter:

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to express my apologies to you, more properly” he spoke loudly, as his eyes were kept on the cup and they slowly came back to your face “… check that you weren’t truly mad with me”.

“You kidnapped me! To say that I am mad with you is an understatement” you commented unable to stop the sass from leaving your mouth.

And you hoped it might distract Gustaf.

But his eyes were smarter.

“… this doesn’t have to be bad, if you don’t make it be” he commented, as he moved towards you as you felt your body suddenly freezing in its position, as he got the cup out of your hand, before he smashed it on the floor “… are you with child, princess?”.

You shook your head, but you were already feeling tears flowing down your face.

“Because I know for sure that frigid bitch of Astrid isn’t, but she asked for a contraceptive brew, claiming that my men raped her, meanwhile she was on the boat”.

And before you knew it, Gustaf, in his slender stature, had pushed you onto the bed, pulling on your hair, as you tried to fight back, but it was no avail, since he had quickly immobilized you under him.

The worry for your belly and the life in it that you had wanted to kill making you quit any attempt of rebellion as Gustaf forced you to look at him in the eyes.

“So, don’t fucking lie to me too, little princess” he spoke tightly “… are you with child?”.

“Yes” it was a choked sob and you tried to at least escape with your face from his harsh glare, as if it lessened the truth of your lips.

And then suddenly Gustaf’s body was away from you, his weight not offending you further.

But his eyes still scared you as they set up on your body, almost as if he could already see the pregnancy overcoming your body.

“You are much more precious than I thought, princess”.


End file.
